The Bitter End
by SinnamonDumpling
Summary: Five years after the battle of Hogwarts, after Azkaban is destroyed and the wizarding world is just about ready to accept that the Dark Lord is finally dead...when the dark mark is unleashed above King's Cross. The maker, a mad man people had discarded and thought dead, plots to finish what the Dark Lord failed to do.
1. Snake Bites

_Chapter One_

 _Snake Bites_

* * *

 _All was well. All was well. All was well._

He had to repeat it over and over to keep himself calm.

 _All was well, all was well, all was well._

His scar had _not_ hurt him since Tom Riddle's death. It was _not_ hurting him now. What was happening was likely just a random, uncoordinated, and desperate act to keep Tom Riddle's memory alive. He really hoped that was the case until he stood outside King's Cross station. And there, a big horrific beacon in the sky, was the dark mark of Lord Voldemort. Harry released a gasp of difficult breath. It meant _nothing_. Like he and many other Aurors were saying: it was just a random occurrence from a dead regime.

However, as Harry James Potter stared at the pulsating snake that twisted into the skull's mouth he couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't. Five years of capturing Death Eaters. Five years and followers of his were still cropping up every so often, not quite believing their master was dead even though many had be forced to see his dead body.

Muggles thought it was just a fireworks display and marvelled at it, children frantically pointing at the big skull to get their parents' attention. If only they knew the darkness behind it. Harry Potter hadn't been scared in five years; now he was willing to admit he was terrified.

Aurors came, as did other ministry members, whom attempted to obliviate any muggles who seem too interested in the dark mark. It was Harry's job to rid the sky of the malicious symbol. When one of the other aurors gave him a nod, Harry sent a spark of white light which dissolved the mark instantly from the night sky. Stars twinkled. The world was safe again. Still, an underlying tension circled in Harry's head...something familiar nagged his brain.

When the work was done and the paperwork that came with it, Harry left the Ministry of Magic and travelled by Floo back to Grimmauld Place. The dark and dank building had transformed, partially, into a more welcoming home thanks to Ginny's magic. Figuratively, of course. He relaxed slightly when Ginny engulfed him in a hug. All was well when Ginny was close and safe. They were silent for a while, just embracing, until Ginny reluctantly pulled away to give him a worried look.

"Ron told me," she said monotonously, "he's in the kitchen with Hermione."

Harry's eyes widened. That was a shock. "In the same room? Together?"

Ginny smiled grimly. "They're being civil, well, what they consider civil. It's their worry for you that's keeping them like that." Her face dropped. "I'm worried for you too."

Harry brushed her cheek gently, the little freckles prominent even in the dim light. He found it hard to believe three years of marriage had already zoomed by so fast, the wedding day fresh in his memory like it was yesterday. That's what he told himself at least every time he forgot their anniversary. "Tom's gone and he's not coming back. My scar isn't hurting. We're safe," he persisted warmly.

Ginny simply cocked her eyebrow, something she had inherited from her mother. Molly was likely relieved that her only daughter had the ability to keep the boys in line when she wasn't around. Thankfully Ginny persist the matter and Harry strolled into a tense-filled kitchen. It wasn't just Hermione and Ron arguing that made his shoulders sag. Kreacher was still here, still muttering his insults and comments whenever anyone was in earshot, still causing Harry's skin to burn. He had already tried to rid himself of Kreacher, so much so he had thrown a sock at the elderly house elf, but Kreacher didn't know anything outside of enslavement.

And it was Kreacher now who was cowering out of Harry's way as soon as he entered the kitchen to find Ron's face bright red and Hermione intentionally looking the opposite way of the two. Her face did brighten at Harry's entrance and ran around the table to give him a hug.

"Harry it's so good to see you! How long has it been?"

"A year, maybe a little less," Harry replied. It had felt longer, anyway.

"I am sorry about that, but the Ministry always has me going over to America to sort out the alliance between the two. It's always being nearly broken off my so many ridiculous things."

"It's alright, you're doing what you love," Harry said and smiled amicably. He could feel Ron's jealous eyes from the corner of his own so he turned his attention to his other best friend. Seeing Ron, goofy lion-hearted Ronald Weasley, couldn't make him smile brighter. "Hey Ron."

"Hiya Harry," he said in that familiar friendly tone of his. But then his joyousness faltered. "Kreacher, here, was calling Hermione a mudblood again."

Harry scowled at the house elf. How Ginny had convinced him to put up with Kreacher he would never know but the house elf always found a way to test his promise to her. Perhaps, he was doing so on purpose. "Kreacher," he addressed darkly, "don't you _ever_ call Hermione that again. That is your last warning."

Kreacher bowed his head dutifully. "Of course, Master Potter."

"Now go do whatever it is that you do, out of my sight."

"Yes, Master Potter," Kreacher obeyed in a low grumble.

In truth, he despised ordering the house elf like that but Kreacher had become so used to orders that to not order him was somehow an insult. Still, it left a vile taste in his mouth. Ginny squeezed his arm. As much as she hated it too, she knew it was the only way to keep Kreacher in the house.

Harry turned his attention back to his two best friends and soon realising that them being in the same room was a mistake. Hermione was embarrassed enough at Ron's obvious attempt to defend her blood status against Kreacher, but to also tell Harry like a tattletale child had only made it worse.

"Honestly Ronald it doesn't bother me anymore," she sighed sourly.

"He still shouldn't say it! No one should!"

"Hundreds of years of prejudice don't fade away overnight."

"That's exactly what happened to Draco, if you recall," Ginny piped up. The two stopped glaring at each other long enough to turn guiltily to Ginny.

"T-that doesn't count," Ron stuttered, "the prat stopped listening to mummy and daddy just because Harry got up after being dead."

The four of them sat down as Hermione butted in, "Draco threw Harry his wand in front of, not _only_ every Death Eater including his parents, but in front of Voldemort himself. While I can't forget what he said to me growing up at Hogwarts I _can_ at least befriend him for doing the right thing and in doing so practically getting disowned."

Ron snorted, "oh yeah disowned alright. Mummy is always visiting the Burrow whenever Draco is there with Teddy."

"Unlike Lucius, Narcissa actually cares more about her son than she does her status." Harry was surprised he was defending the woman, but then again, how could he not when she had openly lied to Tom and allowed him to stop him once and for all? A mother's love was truly a powerful thing.

"Speaking of ex-Death Eaters." Hermione leaned forward with concern sparkling her eyes. "Harry, the dark mark over King's Cross, are you alright?"

Harry tried to smile, he really did, but his friends knew him better than that. He sighed. "Truthfully, no, but my scar isn't hurting. That's the main thing," Harry insisted.

"Just because your scar doesn't hurt mate, doesn't mean he isn't..." Ron faltered.

"Tom isn't back.". He wasn't. End of discussion. None of the others looked convinced. They were only worsening his already anxious state. "It was a scare tactic, that's all. Come on 'Mione how many dark marks did we see in the first month after the battle of Hogwarts?" Hermione didn't answer him. "Exactly. While yes I'll admit it caught me off guard at first after so long since we've seen any Death Eater activity but it's just a random scare tactic. That's it."

"Harry," Hermione began, "if it was a scare tactic like you said they wouldn't have done it at King's Cross. That was a _warning_. Hogwarts is where Voldemort was defeated. King's Cross is where every child attending Hogwarts goes. You must see what this is. It doesn't matter if its been five years or five decades someone will always be a loyal follower to him."

Harry refused to believe it. No one would dare attack Hogwarts, nor start an uprising. Tom's followers were too scattered and too few to make any sort of threat. Why couldn't the others see that? Still that horrible feeling at seeing that dark mark again, that particular one, had more than shook him. No. _It meant nothing_.

"Hermione's right," Ginny said, tenderly entwining her fingers in Harry's on the table.

Harry felt warmth spread through him at the safe touch. He was not going to dive head first into this, he wasn't a child anymore, he had a responsibility to Ginny. To keep her safe. "The best thing we can do is keep our heads, keep calm, and carry on as normal until we have more proof." Harry met all of their eyes in turn and wordlessly telling them the debate was over. He knew what they were thinking. He was spouting out the same rubbish the Ministry had when Tom had returned a second time, if there begun to be disappearances…

"I suppose you're right. There is nothing we can do for now except wait," Hermione agreed, halfheartedly. She stood up and smiled at Ginny and Harry. Ron didn't bother to hide his feeling of betrayal as he grumpily rested his head on the table. "I best be off home, Crookshanks will want feeding."

"Surprised that pig-with-hair hasn't dined on rats while you've been out."

"Oh shut up, Ronald."

* * *

The Dark Lord, _his_ Dark Lord, was gone. He had been told so the moment he regained whatever shred of sanity was left inside of him. And that shred of sanity had led him to remind them, remind them all, that the Dark Lord still had loyal servants.

He paced the drawing room of the Riddle House, his tongue flicking out faster the more agitated he became. He felt himself swaying, or the world was swaying, and somehow it managed to ground him despite his mind whispering old commands of his father. Be still. Be silent. Be _hidden_. For the first time he would heed those vile words.

He needed a plan. He needed to do _something_. His reason for living was dead. In truth, he should have died alongside his master but the ministry had robbed him of that. His chest filled with ice has he remembered the agony of the Dementor's Kiss. Oh that had very nearly killed him but with the eyes of the traitorous Severus Snape and Fudge watching him he refused to satisfy them. He had not begged for mercy. He had held tightly onto his screams until the dementor was yanking out his soul like Fenrir Greyback had once tore out a wizard's heart. Right before his eyes. That had been one terrifying day he would never forget. He had screamed then, but still, they would not hear him beg.

Barty Crouch Jr hissed and spat and growled wildly as he paced the room. He wanted to hurt _something_. He had already hurt his own skin numerous times with his long, untidy nails that it made no difference to his mood. He needed to hurt someone else. Anyone. The vicious urge not being present until the Dark Lord had unleashed it, freeing him from the shallow life he had had with his _darling_ mother and father. He had no grudge against his mother, after all she had agreed to take his place in Azkaban and was the only person to show undying love for him. Love, he realised upon meeting the Dark Lord, he hadn't returned. But his father, oh his father, nothing had been quite so sweet than killing him after years of being nothing but thoughts inside a man controlled by the Imperius Curse. Hidden away. Abandoned. Yes, he replayed the moment that luminescent green flash latched itself onto his father's shocked face and freezing it in place when he felt particularly lost in his insanity.

And it was insanity. He knew that. It was a burden he would forever live with, worsened by his soul being thrusted back into his body. That part he didn't recall, nor how it came to be. But he was here and alive and ready to take revenge for his master's demise. That was the only purpose he had. Without his Dark Lord he was nothing but a boy neglected by his father and suffocated by his mother. He _refused_ to be that boy again. That boy was a disgrace, a cancerous whelp that had found salvation in the Dark Lord.

He howled in annoyance. His sweet revenge for his master could only be completed once Harry Potter was dead. Preferably, Barty wanted him to be squirming in pain at his feet first. But yes. Harry Potter needed to die. Of the year Barty had spent with the _famous Harry Potter_ disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, Barty had learnt two things about him:

One, the boy definitely lived up to his name but lacked sheer common sense.

Two, his friends were his everything.

Suddenly, a cruel smile played on his quivering lips. He recalled a certain little witch, a brave little lion with mangled hair that had spat out the Killing Curse to him on his first lesson with the miscreants. Oh, he had singled her out on purpose after the wretch had interrupted his game with the snivelling Longbottom. His thoughts paused as the room spun for a moment. His eyelids drooped for a second, waiting for darkness to take hold of him, but like a flash he was in control again. Yes, the witch had ended his pleasure of being able to torture the child of Frank and Alice Longbottom without so much as _touching_ him...just by screaming for him to stop.

The scream had been a wake up call and a memory all at once. He had been so transfixed on the squirming insect, of Neville's distorted face struggling not to faint, that when the girl's shrill cry rang out he was pulled back to when he had tortured the Longbottoms. Bellatrix, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange had had what they needed from the broken aurors. However, Barty had taken no part in it, only watching hungrily, and when it was done eagerness had poured out of his body. He had wanted a turn. And it was Bellatrix Lestrange that had fed that desire. She told him to _have fun_. To _do it_. He hadn't needed anymore persuading. Like a rabid dog released, he had lunged at Frank Longbottom first. Hearing his whimpered and withered screams had been _bliss_. Finally, he was hearing someone else's pained cries instead of his own. And then, oh then little Alice Longbottom had screamed at him to stop. So he did. So he did it to her instead.

If Barty Crouch Jr was sure of anything, his Cruciatus Curse had been the one to send Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity.

His tattered mind relished in that memory, before he and the others had been caught and sent to Azkaban. He shuddered. No. His mind was wandering too far away from his objective. He needed to think about the little lion. Granger. If he was to kill Harry Potter than he would do it through her. He could have done it as easily through the Weasley runt, but really, where was the fun in that?

He finally stopped pacing. Barty was quite perturbed at why he had decided to apparate to the Riddle House. It had been the last time he had seen his master, in this very house, and after lighting up King's Cross with his dark mark all his thoughts had drawn him here. No wonder the Dark Lord had killed his muggle father in this house, it was awful and cold and luxurious in a sickening way. He believed very few knew of the Dark Lord's true blood status but it made no real difference, the Dark Lord's power was all the more extraordinary by being a half-blood. He had been trusted with that information. Only he and Pettigrew.

The room spun again. Ice crackled in his chest at the momentary lapse in his control and by the time he regained it blood was dribbling down his chin. He hastened to the dusty mirror above the fireplace and swiped the dust away with a hand. What met him in the reflection was wild, black eyes and greasy dark hair and a chunk ripped out of his bottom lip. He had bitten a chunk of his own lip. With the wand he had stolen from a drunken wizard stumbling out of the Leaky Cauldron, Barty muttered a few words and slowly the chunk began to rise like yeasted bread until his dry lips were whole again. He lapped up his own blood, the copper tase keeping his mind in the present. He couldn't afford to relapse this regularly.

He decided it then. While he saw the crazed, yet determined man in the mirror, Barty decided he would indeed go after Granger. The little lion would be hard to break and her smart little brain would know to shield herself against the Imperius Curse and Legilimency alike. No matter. Barty prided himself in being a skilled Legilimens and would be able to read her thoughts with ease as soon as she met his eyes. If he intimidated her enough, he could break down those barriers of hers. The thought made him tremble with sadistic pleasure.

And as he looked around the dismal room, Barty realised he had the perfect place to put her.

* * *

 **Once I had the idea I couldn't stop myself from writing it, especially after reading so many Barty Crouch Jr fanfics last night. Not sure when I'll update this but I will attempt to.**

 **Also, I haven't decided if this will be a BartyxHermione fanfic yet or not...we'll see in the future.**


	2. Loyal Traitors

_Chapter Two_

 _Loyal Traitor_ s

* * *

Harry lay awake staring at the ash-coloured ceiling. As much as he cherished being in the home of his much loved father-figure, he had to admit the heavy air would never feel right in his lungs. He genuinely wondered how Sirius had taken so long to run away. Imagining his father seeing Sirius utterly terrified on his doorstep, of his father leading him inside and into the living room where his grandparents had made him feel like another son...it made his heart thump loudly but also bring forth sadness. All those stories of the Marauders now lost. He wished he'd asked Remus and Sirius about their friendship at Hogwarts more but life wasn't thinking about the past all the time. The Mirror of Erised had taught him that valuable lesson.

He rolled over and laced an arm around Ginny's waist and was thankful she was already asleep. That _was_ the case until she spun around so fast he had no time to react as she pinned him to the bed, a victorious grin on her face. He raised an eyebrow. "And why are you pinning me to the bed at...two thirty in the morning?"

"Why are you still awake at two thirty in the morning?"

"And why are you?" He countered effortlessly.

"Because, Harry Potter, the difference between you being awake and you being asleep is judged by your snoring. And you weren't snoring."

A flash of guilt appeared on his face. "Do I really snore that bad?"

"Not as badly as Ron," she replied, giggled and then released him. She sank back down and rested her fiery head on his shoulder. "Remember how embarrassing I was when I was younger? I'm glad you're oblivious sometimes because seriously I really wasn't subtle about my crush on you."

"I thought it was sweet, scary, but sweet."

"Harry?" She asked. The humour was gone from her voice. He rested his head on hers and made a noise to show he was listening. "I know you don't want to talk about it but Tom-"

"You don't have to say his name you know."

"He was Tom Riddle," she persisted stubbornly, "at least to me. Tom Riddle has always been scarier to me than Voldemort. Voldemort was a monster with barely any soul left. Tom Riddle had one and still enjoyed torturing. And stop trying to change the subject," she added, gently tapping his nose, "what I mean is Tom may not be back, he may never come back, but that doesn't mean Death Eaters won't still try and hurt you. And I know that means living life with a little fear in the back of our minds but...it won't just be our lives now." She paused. Waiting for his response with dizzy excitement.

"Yeah," Harry said, "I dragged Ron and Hermione into this when they met me. They're still in danger because of me now."

Ginny sighed. Oblivious Potter. She flicked his nose.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"Do I really need to say it out loud?" She asked in a huff. He blinked. Confused. She in turn rolled her eyes and vocalised the words excruciatingly slowly. "I. AM. PREGNANT."

Harry Potter's eyes had never bulged out of his sockets but they very nearly did in that instant. He sat up straight in their shared bed and looked down onto his wife who had the biggest grin. Was she suddenly glowing? Like, the glowing glowing people always were when they were pregnant? He didn't know what to do, what to say. He was happy though, damn he was happy beyond belief, but if he opened his mouth a garbled mess would come out.

"Harry? You okay there boy wonder?"

Ginny's nickname snapped him back into reality. "Can we call him Remus," he blurted out.

Ginny smiled. That was the best thing she would get out of him right now. "Too early to say if its a boy or a girl yet, you know, for a girl I was thinking _Lavender_."

Harry paled. Ginny laughed until her sides hurt. Of course she was joking, never would she call her child after the woman who latched onto her brother like a leech.

The two lay back down but were too excited to sleep. Harry fiddled with the strands of her hair, his whimsical expression aimed at the ceiling. Ginny. Pregnant. Ginny was pregnant. Ginny Weasley was pregnant because of him. Molly would either smother him with love or with a pillow, he didn't quite know yet. One thing he _did_ know was that their child would have both it's parents around them. Harry knew that if this dark mark escapade did get worse...he wasn't sure he could be the boy who lived this time.

* * *

He melted into the shadows effortlessly, his dark clothes billowing slightly in the wind as he scuffled towards the row of houses in the dark moonlight.

It wasn't hard to find out where the _famous Harry Potter_ lived. Barty instinctively kicked a flowerpot as he trudged through the small garden park outside Grimmauld Place. He was almost disgusted that Harry Potter had stopped the spell cast on the house so that it was visible to all muggles around. Sickening. _He_ knew the true ancestor tree of House Black, the noble Blacks, and he was sure that any true Black would be disgusted as he was at the sight of his/her home on display for muggles.

He leaned against the black, metallic gate and pondered. Had things been slightly different he too could have lived in that grand house, dined with the noble Black family as one of their own, if only his father hadn't become a member of the Ministry of Magic. Barty's tongue flicked out grudgingly. Oh he knew his grandfather's marriage to Charis Black and he was proud that he had the Black family blood running through his veins, about the only useful thing his father had ever gifted him. Pure-blood, the purest-blood in all of England was in his body and that must have been what had made the Dark Lord so fond of him. He smirked. Everything could have been very different for him. Three events in his life could have changed him into a different man in a different place.

He was more than thrilled that the events had happened the way that they did.

Barty was pulled out of his thoughts by low grumbles coming from the front of the house. His eyebrow creased and then a quivering smirk played onto his lips again. A house elf. The hero that was Harry Potter had a house elf, oh so noble and heroic. True, that was the one distinguishing factor about Barty: he didn't see house elves as vermin made to serve. Winky really had been his only companion during those haunting years being hidden by his father and no matter how much he hated that side of him he couldn't get rid of it. He carefully strolled closer so that he could hear the little house elf's mutterings.

"Mudbloods and traitors...disrespecting House Black...dirty half-blood and even dirtier mudblood...Kreacher must serve Master Potter...Kreacher has no House Black to serve…"

Barty rolled his eyes. Merlin's beard, some house elves deserved to be put down when they got too old and were just withering sacks of skin. Much like this _Kreacher_ once Barty saw the top of his wrinkled head. This could work in his favour though.

He waited until Kreacher noticed his presence leaning against the brick wall separating Grimmauld Place from the neighbouring muggle houses, his old head leaning up very _very_ slowly. Barty didn't feel threatened by time but the longer he stayed the longer he was likely to get caught. He couldn't afford to get caught. Kreacher studied him with beady black eyes. He had a permanent frown on his long, drooping face. "Are you House of Black?"

Barty grinned cruelly. "I am related to a House of Black member, yes."

He swore Kreacher's eyes lit up for a moment. Poor Kreacher, serving this family for so long had probably lost him his mind. Barty knew how that felt. Slight panic entered him when ice tickled in his chest. _Not now, not now not now_. He willed the darkness away but it wouldn't last long.

"Then I am your servant-"

"You serve Potter, Kreacher," Barty ordered. It felt delightful to give orders. Powerful. "You serve Potter as normal, you do as he says as normal. However, whenever the mudblood Hermione Granger is mentioned or is here I want you to listen to everything and report it back to me."

"Yes, Master-"

"Crouch."

"Yes, Master Crouch," Kreacher said, bowed and hobbled back into the house.

Barty apparated instantly back to the Riddle House.

It was just in time as ice slithered through his chest again and he swayed with the house. More blood. More pain. More time lost as he lost control. By the time he regained it he was lying on the floor and choking. He rolled over and spat the syrup-like liquid out. Blood. His own? He didn't know. The room was a mess, furniture long forgotten now broken around him, the mirror above the fireplace had been smashed. He crawled towards the fireplace and gasped for breath as his spine pressed up against the cold brick. His arms were slick with blood; he'd tried to cut the dark mark off of his arm. That was _not_ a good sign. He didn't focus on the detail for the time being and tried instead to even his rapid breathing.

His chest hurt, not the ice kind of hurt, but an almost tender suffering filling his lungs. He shuddered uncontrollably. And then, he felt wetness travel down his cheeks. He didn't stop it, he felt too numb and delirious to stop the trickling droplets but his tattered mind was revulsed by his own weakness. He would kill Harry Potter because he was too loyal not to.

Be still. Be silent. Be hidden.

Barty's head fell back and after weeks of disturbed nightmares appearing behind his eyes he finally felt the bliss of quiet unconsciousness.

He just hoped he would wake up again.

* * *

 **Gahh I'm sorry these are so short so far, I promise they will be longer once the story actually gets going after the next chapter, right now it's just setting up the AUish element of it. Also I'm hoping I'm portraying Barty convincingly as we really don't know that much about him in canon so I'm mostly going by fan theories.**

 **Anyway, I hope you're enjoying it so far.**


	3. Capture

_Chapter Three_

 _Capture_

* * *

Kreacher glared his beady eyes at the ginger cat violating the priceless Black kitchen table. Master Crouch, however little Black blood resided in his body, was more of a master than Harry Potter would ever be. And that was what had him cowered up against the old stove as red-faced Weasley roared at him.

"You call 'Mione a mudblood one more time Kreacher and I'll turn you into a bloody tea cosy!"

Kreacher made a whimpering sound and with every aching muscle in his body he looked up to meet Weasley's large eyes. His mouth contorted into a cruel smile. "Kreacher doesn't take orders from you...or the _mudblood_."

Ron fumed. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at Kreacher with a shaky hand. Kreacher didn't move. Kreacher had had a wand pointed at him too many times to feel scared. Hermione stormed up behind him and snatched the wand out of his hand with a killer look.

"Ronald Weasley you stop that!" She snapped irritably, "how many times do I have to say it? The word does not bother me anymore because it's outdated prejudice that will die away as soon as people treat it as it is: just a word."

Ron was not pleased and shot a sour look at Kreacher before bumbling back to the table and plopped himself back onto his chair. Hermione huffed and pushed a wild strand out of her face. She did glance briefly at Kreacher, the look one of pity, before she too sat opposite the sulking Weasley. Kreacher pretended to clean the stove with a rag while the two talked. As Master Crouch had ordered.

"When did you say Harry and Ginny would be back?" Hermione asked with a hint of venom.

"Dunno," Ron grumbled, "Harry just said they had some news and wanted us both here."

Hermione fiddled with her fingers, pondering. "Do you think it's about the dark mark?"

"Doubt it. No one's talked about it for over week and from what Harry says there's been no other sightings."

Silence.

"I'm scared, Ron."

Ron's head snapped up to gaze longingly at Hermione. Though the two had separated romantically three years ago his first thought was always to protect her. She didn't make that easy, but, years of the three of them saving each other from certain death left a mark all of its own. Ron winced as guilt stabbed his heart. He really should have done better. Instead he smiled amicably, "'Mione it's alright to be scared after what we went through."

"No one ever talked about it though, did they? The aftermath after the war? I feel...useless without us on the run finding horcruxes. I know that's silly but it's true. At the Ministry I get so restless all the time."

Ron wanted to agree with her but couldn't, after all, once the war was over Hermione got to go back to her parents and make them remember her again. Ron hadn't had that luxury with Fred. Fred was gone and it had broken all the Weasleys, but not as much as George who barely left the pub these days. "I know what you mean," he lied, "but I'd rather be restless than nearly dying every second."

Hermione huffed a laugh. "That's true." Then her back straightened up. "So, how's _Lavender_?"

Ron winced again. "Don't start Hermione."

"Start what? It's a simple question."

"I know what you're thinking though."

"That makes a change," was the snarky reply.

Ron's ears burned bright red. "Yes I know I have the emotional range of a teaspoon, no need to tell me again."

Hermione smirked. "At least you remembered."

They chuckled awkwardly. Thankfully before the silence engulfed them again a burst of green light glowed through the doorway and in came Harry and Ginny, arms interlocked, with grins wider than a dragon's mouth.

"You're getting married-"

"Ginny's pregnant-"

Ron and Hermione said in unison. Disappointed eyes landed onto Ron instantly. "What?"

"Ron we've already been married for three years," Harry said, "you went to the wedding as my best man."

"Did I?"

"Yes and made a right hash of your speech," Ginny added, snorting.

Ron's head nodded slowly for a moment and then his eyes widened. "Wait you're pregnant?"

Harry and Ginny both nodded excitedly. And like that the room was a raucous noise of 'congratulations' and other cheerful sounds that made Kreacher cover his long, pointed ears. Kreacher was clearly invisible to them as they huddled around the table, Hermione and Ginny giggling together while Ron gave Harry a pep talk on how to approach it to Mrs Weasley.

"She'll kill you, either literally or by a hug," Ron explained in a serious tone. "But wow, a Weasley-Potter child."

"I know, Professor McGonagall is going to retire the day they start at Hogwarts."

"Nah," Ron replied, "she'll see it as her greatest challenge yet. Plan on giving it the invisibility cloak?"

"And create more hassle for the headmistress? Maybe not."

"oh go on Harry," Ron said, "your dad gave it to you."

"Actually Dumbledore gave it to me," Harry corrected.

"Your dad would've wanted to give to you. And you'll want to give it to your child too."

"Ronald don't you go encouraging him," Ginny butted in, "that's my job."

Harry could only hide his smile behind a hand.

And so it went on and on and on. All happy smiles and happy noises and happy everything, and Kreacher listened intently as he cleaned the already sparkling stove. He looked down when something pressed up against him. The hideous cat that the mudblood had brought with her was purring as it swerved between his skeleton legs. Kreacher suddenly smiled with malice.

* * *

"A _cat_?" Barty questioned. Yes he was insane but even he couldn't understand the importance of some dumb animal.

Kreacher, however, was adamant about it. "Yes Master Crouch, mudblood nearly always brings it with her. Mudblood is very fond of the cat."

"And this matters because…"

"If Master Crouch wants mudblood, Master Crouch must get the cat."

Barty rolled his eyes but hastened a quick glance around him to see that no one was around. Dark shadows danced upon the rows of houses and plants wavered a little in the breeze but otherwise there was no movement. "Alright fine, fine. Anything else to report?"

Kreacher faltered.

For the first time he felt like denying orders from a Black.

Barty picked up on the hesitation and loomed over the house elf with threats bubbling under his skin. "Kreacher?" He said, darkly.

"Mistress Ginny is...is pregnant."

Oh. Well now. Harry Potter wanted to father a child now? Barty couldn't hold back the maniacal giggle that escaped his lips. That child would be damaged by the time it left Hogwarts with the weight of it's father's fame crushing it's little fragile soul. Deranged thoughts flashed through his mind. What better way to hurt Harry Potter the most than that of his unborn child?

Kreacher could see the cogs turning in Master Crouch's head. Swiftly he continued on, "the mudblood is vulnerable now. Mudblood separated from the Weasley many years ago but it still hurts her."

Barty mused on that information, sadistic pleasure rolling around in his head. He did still want the brave little lion. Torture his friends and his family would send Harry Potter into the deepest despair. "Good Kreacher, good. When is Granger next supposed to be visiting?"

"Tomorrow, Master Crouch."

Oh it was just too perfect. "Then tomorrow do whatever you can to get the _cat_ out of the house."

"Yes...Master Crouch."

* * *

"I'll just be outside Mrs Weasley."

"Harry, dear, call me Molly for goodness sake."

Harry smiled warmly. "Never going to happen Mrs Weasley."

He sucked in the countryside air and felt relief flow through him. Mrs Weasley hadn't killed him for getting her only daughter pregnant, in fact she had be _so_ thrilled she had nearly dropped their evening meal onto all of them. Thankfully, Mr Weasley knew his wife's reactions well enough to catch it but had still congratulated them with his friendly words. Harry himself hadn't stopped smiling since Ginny had told him and he soon realised he had never truly smiled this much since he found out the truth of Sirius Black all those years ago.

He wished Sirius was here now, celebrating, he wished everyone he had lost to be here. Harry's smile didn't falter despite the sudden rush of sadness as he knew, deep down, they were here. As his mother had told him in the Forbidden Forest a lifetime ago: none of them had truly left him. They were all here with him, just out of his reach, and were likely as thrilled as Mrs Weasley was. He imagined his father chattering the ear off of everyone else.

He spun around when he abruptly heard footsteps approach him and soon faced Draco.

It wasn't _Draco_ _Malfoy_. Draco hadn't truly been Draco Malfoy since the moment he had thrown Harry's wand to him. But even now Harry couldn't help but find it ironic that the two had become quite close friends after so many youthful years being pitted as enemies. Draco no longer sneered either, his face prominently blank of any expression as he stood beside Harry and stared dreamily into the distance.

"Potter," he said.

"Draco," Harry replied.

Draco chuckled. "It sounds wrong to hear you say my first name, even now."

"Yes, well, calling you Malfoy feels wrong. You're not bound to your father anymore."

"That is very true. Probably has erased me from all existence at Malfoy Manor," Draco said bitterly. Harry knew living with his Aunt and muggle Uncle was still difficult for Draco, all those years having prejudice and hate drilled into him was hard to remove. However, as Draco stood beside him with an emerald green Weasley sweater with a silver 'D' sewn into it, Harry Potter knew Draco was a good, changing man.

"Even if he did Draco, is it worth caring about?"

Draco snorted, "no, actually, it really isn't. My father is a coward...I wish I had seen it sooner."

"Would you have run away?" Harry enquired, reminded of Sirius.

Draco blinked at him a few times before answering. "No, I wouldn't have, because I am a coward like him." He glared when Harry let out a short laugh. "Something funny, Potter?"

"Coward? You ran, with your back facing hundreds of Death Eaters, and threw my wand to me in the full view of Tom Riddle and your parents and nearly the entire school. Draco, you're ten times the man Lucius will ever be."

Though Draco did not thank the praise, even he wouldn't lower himself that far, but his eyes did sparkle after many years of dullness and his posture slackened. He looked to him while Harry still stared up at the sky and felt as if he was transported back to that day in Madam Malkin's when he had first seen him. Being praised by Harry Potter was not something Draco had ever thought possible. He dropped his gaze. "Might I say, congratulations on...the child. But please say nothing your smile is sickening enough," Draco spat out but there was no venom in it as a smirk curled the corner of his pale lips. Harry was about to retort when a high-pitched squeal came from the Burrow.

"Dwaco!"

"Merlin's beard," he whined.

The two turned around to see a boy with vibrant blue hair sprinting towards them. Teddy Lupin stopped short of Draco's knees and outstretched cake-covered hands upwards. Harry had to hide his chuckles behind a hand as Draco rolled his eyes at the young boy. Still, the self-proclaimed Slytherin gave in and picked the boy up.

"You get any of that cake on my sweater and you'll know about it."

The boy only giggled at funny Draco before grinning at Harry. "Con-gra-tu-la-tions Uncle Harry!" He shouted, concentrating on the getting the difficult word exactly right. He was even happier when Harry grinned back.

"Hang on there," Draco said with narrow eyes, "if you can say the r's in Harry's name, why can't you say the one in mine?"

"Because you're Dwaco."

"Is that so, is it?"

Teddy nodded his head fervently. Draco may have feigned indifference but he had grown quite fond of the 'werewolf-baby' as he used to call him. His blue hair began to tinge to pale blond at the tips as it always did whenever he was close to Draco. Yes, Draco could at least admit that he cared for his second cousin, to himself anyway. "If that is the case then I think it's bedtime."

"Noooo," Teddy whined.

Draco cocked an eyebrow much like Mrs Weasley did. "If you go to bed now without fighting me I'll get you a chocolate frog."

Teddy pretended to consider it. "Two chocolate frogs."

"Alright deal," Draco said, then turned to Harry, "you coming back in, Potter?"

Harry looked towards the shallow swamp a little way off and reminisced on the time Dumbledore had practically dropped him into it. To this day he still wondered whether Dumbledore had done it purposefully or not.

"In a little while. Still need some air."

"Suit yourself."

Sometime later Harry and Ginny eventually left the warmth of the Burrow and returned to Grimmauld Place. It was rather late, darkness peaking it's shadowed head as the sunset dipped down. They still had to have a catch up with Hermione and while Harry loved seeing his best friend the yawn constantly falling out of his mouth made it hard to concentrate on another conversation.

"Maybe I should just Floo quickly to Hermione and ask her to come tomorrow?" Ginny suggested.

Harry shook his head mid-yawn. "No, no. I'm used to little sleep, remember? I'll stay up and wait for her, you should go to bed."

Ginny rested a hand on her waist. "Ordering me about are we?"

"No," Harry replied mischievously, "only a suggestion."

"If you say so, don't fall asleep."

Harry tried to heed the command as he sat at the kitchen table, he really did, but even with the coffee cup in his hand he still managed to fall asleep with his head bent low. He was tottering on the edge of falling forward onto the table when Hermione stormed through the fireplace in the other room, Crookshanks curled up in her hands. Once Crookshanks realised where he was he hastily dropped from Hermione's arms and scampered off in search of a spare ear.

She called out a few times. Silently cursing the late hour she dipped her head into the kitchen to see Harry sound asleep. She shook her head which ruffled her mangled mane of hair. Honestly, why had they decided such a late time? A sudden hiss and a spit made her walk back into the halfway. The front door was wide open and she just managed to see a fluffy orange tail disappear out into the night. Hermione sprinted after the troublesome cat but hugged herself when the chilly night air hit her.

"Crookshanks," she called softly, "puss, puss, puss come back now."

A meow sounded, echoing from around the corner. Hermione felt a rush of suspicion run through her as she cautiously rounded the corner away from Grimmauld Place. Crookshanks didn't just run off, nor did the front door magically open on itself. Instinctively she took out her wand so it was at the ready and continued to call for Crookshanks. Vigilant eyes danced around the street. Another meow, coming from an alleyway. Now Hermione knew it had to be a trap.

She stood directly at the mouth of the alleyway, darkness spreading so much that she couldn't even see past her own nose, and whispered, "Lumos." The tip of her wand burst into white light instantly and she aimed it down the alleyway as far as the light would dare to travel.

"Petrificus totalus!"

Hermione instinctively countered the spell with ease though a slight squeal of surprise left her lips. Another spell was called out loudly, animalistically, but again she rebounded it. Her own mouth fired out spells in response, a number of them in fact, but the figure hidden in the darkness countered all of hers too. And then the spells stopped. Silence. Until a hateful hiss sounded and then the figure stepped out of the shadows. Hermione gasped. It wasn't the man that caused the shock, it was seeing her precious Crookshanks being roughly held by the tuft of his neck and a wand aimed at him.

"Don't!" She cried. No, she was a Gryffindor. "Don't you _dare_ hurt him."

The man grinned maliciously, drinking in her panic. "So it's a he, is it?" He said with mild disgust. "Looks more like an old carpet. Smells like it too."

Hermione grounded her teeth. She didn't recognise him but somehow in her gut she knew he was the one who had created the dark mark over King's Cross Station. "Why?"

The man took a slight step forward, wand still poised at Crookshanks. "Because, little lion, I need you to come with me. We're going to have a nice little chat, long way away from here, and then," his eyes were wild as his tongue flicked out, "I'm going to make you scream."

* * *

 **This is a warning that after this chapter the story will get very, very dark. I will put another warning onto the next chapter but there is a reason why this is M rated.**

 **Also after this chapter I plan to make these either weekly or every other week depending on how much I can write down before summer starts as college work for next year is at the front of my mind. Sorrrry.**

 **Barty is exteremly sadistic but who knows this may change *wink wink* (still don't know if there will be a legitimate pairing of these two, maybe, but not the typical ship if I can help it, we will see)**


	4. The Warning

**Warning: this chapter has some pretty disturbing images.**

* * *

 _Chapter Four_

 _The Warning_

* * *

Without much fighting Hermione allowed him to grasp her arm and apparate to a house she didn't recognise. It was abandoned, that was certain, and fairely big. Hermione's eyes didn't wander around the room much as she was too concerned with Crookshanks still being in his sick clutches. She knew better than to anger him though, any angered Death Eater was fatal. He wouldn't intimidate her.

Hermione backed away from him with her front facing him so he couldn't make a move at her. She wore her best glare. "I've done what you wanted. Let Crookshanks go."

"I don't take orders from you," he sneered. He jabbed his wand into Crookshanks neck which earned him another hiss.

"Stop it!" She cried. "Please, I'll...I'll do what you say." It felt vile to beg, to say such belittling things to him. She had more worth than he ever would. She was Hermione Granger, gifted muggle-born who had help defeat Lord Voldemort. He was a worthless, pathetic being still trying to be loyal to a monsterous man that was dead beneath the dirt.

His eyes darkened, rage pulsing around him. "Your words mean _nothing_. Not when you are being so rude inside your head."

She gulped. "You're a-"

"Legilimens. Yes. So think _very_ carefully about what you plan to do next."

Hermione stiffened. She had no doubts he would kill Crookshanks if she disobeyed, if she even dared to block him out of her thoughts. There really was nothing she could do except nod her head. Defeated.

"Good girl, now, give me your wand."

Hermione had almost forgotten it was still clutched tightly in her hand. She took another involuntarily step back. She wouldn't give up her wand, she couldn't. Her movement only enraged him.

" _Give me your wand now,_ " he seethed.

"Let go of Crookshanks first," she compromised and then added hastily, "please."

They both knew the request had to be answered, he couldn't hold Crookshanks and his wand if he wanted hers too. With venom he spat, "alright. Drop your wand and kick it over to me. Then I'll let the hairball go."

She bit the inside of her cheek but complied, her only defence sliding across the dusty floor to stop at his feet. There was a long pause where neither moved or spoke and for a second Hermione believed he would kill Crookshanks anyway. He didn't. He threw the cat towards her and Crookshanks flopped to the floor with a heavy thud. Hermione didn't think twice about scooping him up and hugging him tightly as the Death Eater bent down to pick up her wand. "You're a monster..." she uttered hatefully under her breath.

He still heard her and smirked cruelly. He fiddled with her wand between his fingers, studying it carefully before slowly licking it from bottom to tip. Hermione closed her eyes. Somehow that single act disgusted her more than when Cormac McLaggen had tried to sneak a slippery hand under her dress at Slughorn's party. She opened them again to see he was holding her wand length ways with that cruel smirk widening.

"A mudblood like you doesn't deserve a wand."

He snapped it before her eyes. A single white spark had protruded from the split centre before dying out. A dead, broken wand. She wanted to scream. She swallowed down her rage and glared at him. "Who are you?"

"Fiesty little thing, aren't you?" He mused darkly. "But of course where are my manners, my name is Barty Crouch."

Hermione's forehead creased. That wasn't right. "Barty Crouch is dead. Unless you're-" Hermione let out another gasp. "Of course you're his son. _You_ were the one who made the dark mark above King's Cross, just like you did at the Quidditch World Cup."

"Still a smart little lion I see," he sneered. Barty's smirk did falter at the mention of his father however. "My pathetic father may have named me after him but as far as I'm concerned _I_ am the only Barty Crouch. Tell me, little lion, did they find his bone?" He asked and then giggled maniacally.

Hermione sneered back, "no they didn't. But once the Ministry is through with you no one will give you a second thought. You'll be forgotten. Again."

"My Dark Lord never forgot me," Barty hissed.

Hermione let out a strangled laugh. Despite him being unstable and in control she couldn't help the stinging words leave her lips. "Never forgot you? Voldemort left you to rot in Azkaban while he helped other Death Eaters escape because you were nothing but a pawn to him!"

Before she was aware of it happening Crookshanks was out of her arms and Barty had his long fingers wrapped around her throat, choking her. She felt his deranged, hot breath against her face and wanted to look away from his blackened eyes. They were demonic. He yanked her head to the side so that he could whisper sharply into her ear, "don't you speak the Dark Lord's name you filthy little mudblood. One more word from you and I'll make you regret it. I'll make you regret the day your whore mother gave birth to you."

Hermione whimpered quietly. As much as she couldn't breathe, as much as Barty Crouch terrified her, the Gryffindor inside of her couldn't help her from croaking back, "your precious Dark Lord is dead. He died as just a sadistic, powerless man. _Just like you will_."

She didn't recall what happened next but her eyes flew open to find herself lying on the floor with pain tingling through her body. She tried to sit up, her heavy head making it difficult, and gently dabbed her hand to her throat. She hissed. She could feel the tender bruises beneath her fingertips. Had Barty strangled her into unconsciousness? If that were true the pain wouldn't be all through her body too. The penny dropped and she felt like vomiting. He must haved used the Cruciatus Curse on her.

With trembling legs she stood up and hugged herself. Roughly wiping away stray tears she was thankful that Barty wasn't in the room. Then again, she had no idea what she had done or said while he tortured her. Merlin's beard, she hoped she hadn't begged him to stop. The very thought twisted her belly more. "Crookshanks," she called hoarsely. No meow answered her.

Part of her was too fearful to leave the room to go look for him, after all, without knowing the house's layout she could very easily bump into Barty again. She shuddered. Her love for her cat that had been with her since she was thirteen was stronger than her fear of the Death Eater.

Hermione forcefully, albiet cautiously, explored the house in search of Crookshanks. On the ground floor she came across a rather large kitchen. It looked ancient due to its disuse. In the far corner of the kitchen was a faded, white door that probably led out to the garden. She rattled the door but felt the tingle of magical charms on the brass handle. Barty must have charmed it. She sighed and continued to explore.

There was also a a small toilet beneath the staircase. The staircase itself was wooden, much like the rest of the house, and it creaked loudly beneath her petite footsteps. Upstairs wasn't much better. She counted at least four rooms along the narrow landing and all of them were locked with the same charm on the door downstairs. She huffed. The dust in the air made her nose itch. She tried to call Crookshanks one last time and when no answer came again she sulked back downstairs towards the kitchen.

Hermione opened all the drawers and cupboards, her skin crawling at the spiders and lumps of dust that fell away when she did, and found a rusted cup hidden at the back. Thankfully no one had turned off the pipes connected to the house and water shot out of the sink. She gasped in a heavenly breath once she drained the cup and the cool water soothed her scratchy throat. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Hermione began to ponder what had happened with a clear head.

Something was off about all this. Obviously Barty wanted her to get to Harry, that was easy enough to understand, but why had he originally shot a harmless body-binding spell at her? He could have knocked her out and used the Imperius Curse. But no. He let her come with a margin of free will. It was odd.

And that wasn't the only odd thing either. From what she could remember Barty had been sentenced with the Dementor's Kiss straight away rather than being sent to Azkaban as Fudge, even then, wanted to hide away any evidence that Voldemort had returned. She remembered how lifeless Harry had been that night as he tried to explain everything to her and Ron. A whole year of Barty disguised as Moody. She wondered if he knew Moody was dead.

"It's rude to touch something that isn't yours without permission."

Hermione snapped her body around to see Barty leaning heavily against the kitchen doorway. He looked...ill. His chest was rising up and down rapidly and his skin was drenched in sweat.

Hermione raised her head and bravely met his eyes. "I needed a drink," she stated.

Barty's eyes narrowed. Though she didn't feel it she could tell he was searching her mind to see if she was telling the truth. He growled, clearly realising she was. He stumbled forward and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

Hermione, bravely or stupidly, asked what had been on her mind. "Why did you try to use a body-binding spell instead of just the Imperius Curse?"

She regretted it when his head turned to her with danger reeking off of him. He leaned forward with a sneer, "I didn't want to damage Potter's precious mudblood. At least not yet."

"Thought so," Hermione mumbled, "why this house? Is it yours?"

"Quiet. No more questions."

Hermione crossed her arms. "You do not scare me."

Barty leaned back with a small chuckle. "Really? Oh yes a brave little lion with too big a mouth. You should be. I still have yet to hear you beg."

Hermione smirked triumphantly. So she hadn't given him that satisfaction while under the Cruciatus Curse. Good. "And you _never_ will."

Barty stood up and the screech from the chair legs made her flinch. Just like that he calmly strolled up to her until she felt the rim of the sink pressing into her back. He was far too close. The worst part was that he knew it too. They held a staring contest for what felt like painfully long minutes before Barty roughly grasped her chin. Hermione heard his other hand turn on the tap.

"I don't need magic to frighten you, Granger. Oh no. For you see a mudblood like you is likely more afraid of muggle intimidation than you are curses," Barty said far too calmly as the sink began to fill up. "I've seen the brand on your arm. Tell me who it was that did it."

Ripples of water splashed against her hands. She shook her head defiantly. "No."

Barty's initial ill look was one of sadistic pleasure now. "Then you will learn that I am not a man who shows mercy. No second chances."

The hand latched onto her chin slithered to the back of her neck and shoved her head into the water. Her mouth closed but it was hard to remain calm when being drowned. The water was sloshing all around her, taunting her, wanting her to open her mouth and allow it to finally consume her. Hermione tried in vain to fight against his strong grip when the need to breathe was becoming more and more urgent. He didn't let go. Not until her thrashing slowed down enough to almost become limp. He released her and she fell backwards. He was bemused by how she gulped for air like a fish. Coughing and spluttering and her hair slapping her face, Hermione wanted to cry. She was close to it too, so close to spilling out her suffering to this animalistic monster.

A trembling hand latched onto the dreaded sink and she slowly stood up. "Still...don't...scare...me," Hermione said between gasps.

"Doesn't matter," Barty spoke as cold as ice, "it was your one warning. Your one reminder that you are a powerless little girl against the army of Lord Voldemort."

 _Some army_ , she thought, but if Barty had heard her say it he made no action to say that he had.

"You step out of line again, mudblood, and I'll make you watch as I torture your precious cat. Now, you will remain in this house until I say otherwise. You will do as I say without question. And don't try to apparate, I have sealed this house with every security charm you can think of and more."

With that and another hard glare, Barty stumbled out of the room and Hermione was thankful to hear a slamming door above her head. All bravery left her and she crumpled to the floor and sobbed. Her entry into womanhood really hadn't changed much. Hermione wondered if she had entered it at all as she brought her knees up to her chest and silently sobbed until there were no more tears left to shed.

* * *

Barty fell onto the four-poster bed and paid no mind to the dust that shot up around him. He closed his heavy eyes but all he could see was Hermione's pale face gasping for breath. He hadn't _meant_ to hold her under for so long. Just long enough to panic her slightly but his hand had refused to obey him, much like it had when he had tortured that insect in front of Longbottom. A lust to cause pain, fear, suffering.

It hadn't helped that he had only just taken control after another fall into the darkness, what had caused him to leave her screaming on the floor mid torture. He loathed unfinished work but if had stayed while consumed by his own mind he likely would have killed her. He _needed_ her alive. He _needed_ to complete the Dark Lord's mission. Finality was important.

His mind was racing and he felt the ice slithering into his chest. _Not again_. He had put it off for so long to make sure Hermione was where he needed her to be that he was now paying for it. Before the room began to spin something melted the ice, just for a moment, and he was shocked that his mind was still his own. He sat up, confused. His freedom didn't last long enough for him to wonder on a cause as the ice came back and sliced into his heart, shredding it, severing it.

He had just enough time to put a strong locking charm on the door before he faded into cold, cold blackness.


	5. No Mercy

_Chapter Five_

 _No Mercy_

* * *

For one blissful moment Hermione believed she was safe in her own house when Crookshanks jumped onto her chest and began licking her hair as if to clean it. One heavenly moment she was home and about to get up to go to work and then go and see Harry. Then the moment was ripped out of her as she cracked open one eye to see the ash, dusted walls of Barty's house. A heaviness entered her heart, be it from the near death by drowning or reality being crueler than fantasy she didn't know and nor did it really matter.

She was still a prisoner to a deranged Death Eater with sickening delusions.

Hermione held Crookshanks close to her chest and shoved her face into the thick orange fur in hopes of disappearing into it. Where was her Gryffindor bravery now? She had dealt with bullying, with torture, and the threat of death a number of times and yet no one terrified her as much as Barty Crouch. His wild eyes, his sadistic words, his aura of evil was like having Voldemort's venomous whispers inside her head again. The devilish whispering to let Harry die. No. She had ignored them then and she would ignore them now.

Carefully she stood up, Crookshanks still cradled in her arms, and felt her bones cracking. Lying on a stone-cold kitchen floor all night really wasn't her greatest decision. Her eyes fluttered to the sink behind her and bile rose up in her throat. Twenty-two years old and the sight of her sink churned her stomach. Honestly.

Thankfully light seeped through the window above the sink and it looked as if early dawn was spreading over the garden of the house. Hermione noticed that the garden was very unkempt. Weeds rose high like grapes vines and wrapped around decaying hedges, statues, and other decorations left to rot. One wave of a wand could restore it, restore the whole house even, but Barty had done nothing. Why?

A floorboard creaking upstairs made her freeze. He was still alive then, a pity. As the heavy footsteps echoed towards the staircase Hermione hastily sat down at the kitchen table and casually stroked Crookshanks fur. When Barty walked in their eyes met for a while, just staring, a silent competition as to who would look away first. Hermione lost easily enough. No one would want to stare into those eyes if they wanted to remain sane.

Barty stumbled about like before and went up to the window to gaze onto the rising dawn. The light that touched his rugged, stubbled face didn't sit well with her. He was a man of darkness and even she felt offended as surely the sunlight was to have to illuminate such a beast. He suddenly turned around, eyes narrowed at her, and then pointed to the door she had tried to open last night.

"Didn't take you long to try and open that. The so called 'brightest witch of her age' stumped by a charmed door, tsk tsk."

Hermione glowered at him. "Hard to open a charmed door without a wand."

"True, yes, true," he said, walking back over to the table and looming above her, "but I thought you'd impress me. At least a little. In fact you've been rather a disappointment Miss Granger." He sat down beside her and still made sure to invade her personal space. Crookshanks hissed him away to which Barty only hissed back. He really was feral. "How did a stupid little girl like you defeat the Dark Lord, I wonder. Oh I know it was all down to Mr Potter but you and Weasley were always trailing after him to help him out. Poor boy couldn't tell his arse from his elbow most of the time. But you, no you were smart. Smarter than Potter, smarter than even Dumbledore given the chance. And yet here you are with me, a prisoner, without a brain cell awake enough to escape."

When a tear slipped down Hermione's cheek he grinned viciously.

"Such a shame you're a muggle-born. You could have been so much more. But I stand by what I said before, if you provoke me I will make you wish you were never born."

"A man of your word, hm?" Hermione croaked.

"Precisely. You'll want to remember that today."

Hermione's ears pricked up. "What's today?"

Barty chuckled darkly. "There is not one morsel of food in this house and I for one am not a happy man without food. Then again," he cocked his head and looked hungrily at Crookshanks, "that may smell and look like an old carpet but I bet it tastes delightful."

Hermione fell for his threat and brought Crookshanks closer to her. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh but I would if that was the last option. But, alas, instead I have you and you're going to go into the muggle town here and buy some food."

"I don't have money."

"I have a wallet I stole off a drunk muggle a few days ago, I'm sure that will suffice."

Hermione's jaw tightened. "Did you kill them?"

Barty's tongue flicked out dangerously. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes," Hermione spoke bravely.

His head cocked again as if amused. Dark eyes wandered over her face as if calculating some difficult sum. "Usually I would love to divulge those sort of interactions but I know your game, Miss Granger. You think if I tell you you can then tell the Ministry about all the awful things I did to you and that muggle when the aurors finally catch up with me. Well, sorry to burst your moral little bubble but...the aurors will never come. As far as the wizarding world is concerned I'm dead. As you know that worked pretty well for me last time."

Hermione wanted to scream in his smug face. Instead she answered calmly, "the Ministry is better now. They'll catch you."

Barty bellowed out a genuine laugh. "Better? You deluded little girl the Ministry is as bad as ever. Haven't you noticed how the Daily Prophet hasn't mentioned any of the dark marks appearing since the Dark Lord's demise? Haven't you noticed the whispering voices around corners? The underlying feeling that someone might be watching you? Ready to betray you? The Ministry is a balloon, a tense balloon filled with fear and paranoia and panic. And all it needs is a prick of a needle to burst it."

"And you're that needle, aren't you?" Hermione asked, barely containing her growing anger.

Barty answered, "as much as I would like it Miss Granger. No. I am not the needle. I have one mission and after that the Ministry can do what it damn well wants with me."

Of course that was all he cared about. "You just want to kill Harry. To avenge your dead master. If you weren't such a monster I would pity you."

Barty's face contorted into quiet rage. He spat, "good because I don't want your pity."

He stood up sharply and snatched Hermione's wrist. Crookshanks hissed but quickly leapt out of her arms to escape the room. She thought at first as he pulled her close until their bodies were practically touching. His cold hand and heated body was a sickening mixture. "Let go!"

"I'm warning you Miss Granger. You are going to come with me without a fuss and if you make any move to disobey me I'll not only kill everyone in this grotesque little town!" He howled above her cries.

She stopped fighting. Defeat spread like fire through her veins.

"Good girl, now we're getting somewhere."

The next moment they were apparated into a narrow alleyway. Hermione was pressed between a brick wall and Barty. He glowered deviously at the growing flush across her cheeks.

"As if I would lower myself to fuck you. Stop panicking, it's incredibly annoying." He cursed, disgusted.

The flush turned into surprise. His vulgarity was not something she had expected. Afterall, Death Eater or not he was the son of a high-up Ministry official and had likely grown up in a well-mannered and almost aristocratic household. Still his words put her at some ease that he wouldn't force himself onto her. Then again, even if it meant dying she would never let him touch her.

"Now," he said, begrudgingly pulling her out of her thoughts, "no funny business. I want to be here as little as possible. We will go into the little shop on the corner, you will buy what we need and then we will leave again. Understood?"

She nodded her head. His slippery hand gripped her own tightly and then he guided her around the corner towards a red-painted shop. Her eyes befell children playing on a crudely constructed playground across the road, and then onto a couple strolling the opposite way to them with a pram, and then onto an elderly gentle powering towards the pub while leaning on a walking stick. He would kill all these people if disobeyed. Anyone else she would have called it a bluff but Barty was different, in that, he really had nothing left to lose. Yes he wanted Harry dead, more than anything, but she was certain he would drop his plan and just go for the kill anyway.

To him this was a hunt. A hunt could be completed with or without traps.

Upon entering the shop Hermione was bombarded with the familiar sweet shop smell like the one back at home. Though she despised sweets thanks to her parents, she would always stand in the shop with other girls from school she had tried to befriend. All of them had ignored her. They much prefered their sweet tooth over her.

"Hurry up," Barty whispered into her ear.

Yanking her hand out of his she grabbed a small metallic basket and began studying the rows of food to try. She ignored his looming presence close to her. He never moved an inch away the entire time she filled the basket with essentials and also food she hoped he would hate. He was a pure-blood and most of this food would go well over his head, therefore she was in no danger when she added items like sardines and pickles into the basket. Her eyes rested on a box of chocolates with a small smile.

Every year without fail her father would buy her mother one box of chocolate for their anniversary. Everytime her mother had offered to share them with her and everytime Hermione had declined. Now, she may never get the chance.

"You okay there, dear?"

Hermione turned to see a middle-aged woman smiling warmly up at her. Without meaning to her stare landed on the woman's wheelchair and then guiltily back to the woman's face. "It's alright love, everybody does it."

"They shouldn't," Hermione replied, "they shouldn't see it at all."

"Well unless it suddenly turns invisible I don't think that's possible. Anywho, my name is Monica and I co-own the shop."

Hermione couldn't help a few tears falling down her face. She wiped them away roughly when Monica looked concerned. "S-sorry, that's erm, that's my mother's name."

Monica smiled amicably. "That's alright dear. I don't think I've seen you around before, have you just moved here?"

Before Hermione could think up a lie or spill everything out, Barty crept up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist.

"Yes, last week in fact," Barty answered cheerfully. Though cheerful Hermione could hear the strain as he tried to keep it up. "Little bird flew away from home to come with me. I really don't know how I got so lucky."

Monica clapped her hands excitedly. "And how long have you two been together?"

"Oh about, I wonder, it'll be a week now. Isn't that right, _love_?"

Hermione fought the urge to slap his hand away and nodded.

"Only a week?" Monica asked, she appeared only to be a little confused. "Then again young love is a fickle thing."

"Innit just," Barty answered. He was enjoying this far too much.

"So, how did you two meet? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"Oh no, no it's quite alright. I was a teacher, you see, and this little bird wouldn't leave me alone. At first I was professional and told her no, but, who could resist such an elegant girl?" Barty paused to use his other hand to curl a strand of her hair behind an ear. Monica's smile was showing signs of slipping. "We plan to get married eventually. Tell me, does the vicar here mind marrying couples who have eloped?"

Monica's face dropped.

"I'll take that as a no. Ah well, we can always try can't we?" Barty bent down close to her ear and added as the woman wheeled herself away, "almost done, dear?"

Hermione shakily nodded her head again.

She finished up quickly and Barty handed her the wallet. He was right there was enough. There was enough for at least one more shopping trip. Guilt blazoned inside of her as she saw a photo of a woman and a child inside a pocket of the wallet. She slammed it shut again.

Grunting, Hermione carried the basket towards the counter where another woman much older than Monica was waiting with the same warm smile. All of a sudden the weight was snatched out of her hand and Barty stormed past her. He must have gotten frustrated at how long she was taking.

"I'll carry that for you, _love_."

Hermione reluctantly stood beside him as the woman scanned the items. "Such a gentleman," she praised.

He's no such thing. A hand latched onto her shoulder and squeezed. A shallow breath left her lips. "Isn't he just?" She whispered. She felt sick.

"Every man should respect what he has, that's my motto."

The woman's eyebrow raised. Something mischievous radiated from her. "There really isn't that many men like you these days."

Barty chuckled as he squeezed Hermione's shoulder again. Harder. "You flatter me. I like to think of myself as one of a kind."

"I hope not," the woman snorted, "otherwise we would have to clone you."

Hermione was close to bursting but luckily the woman finished scanning before she could retort. Hermione handed over the money and between them they managed to carry the bags back to the alleyway.

"I always have been a good actor," Barty announced.

Once they apparated into the house again Hermione erupted.

"How dare you!" You humiliated me like that on purpose."

"It stopped her talking didn't it?" He hissed. He dropped the bags onto the table with a heavy thud and paid no attention to the items that rolled out onto the floor. "Any longer and I would've tortured the both of them."

"I wouldn't let you," Hermione snarled back.

"Without a wand, I doubt that very much. Now, put this food away."

"No. You will not order me about you-you sick monster!"

It was a mistake.

A bad, bad mistake.

He began to tremble violently even though his face was a picture of calm. She took a step back. It was no use as he vaulted over the table with ease and seized her neck. She forced down a squeal. She would not relent this time. She would not. Her throat was still bruised from his last assault and it prickled with needle-like pain as he clamped down around it. It was still a surprisingly loose grip.

He spoke lowly. "I told you before. No. Second. Chances. Yet your tongue is still taunting me, maybe I should _cut_ it out."

"No, no please," she choked. "I-I'll be good."

"I believe you will Miss Granger," he replied. His hand remained on her throat. "Call your cat."

"W-what?"

"Call your cat, now," he commanded.

Hermione tried to shake her head. "No please don't-"

"CALL YOUR CAT!"

Her heart was beating so furiously it drowned out the echoing silence from his shout. Every fibre in her wanted to scream that she wouldn't, to snatch his wand from his pocket and make him beg mercy from her.

It would do her no good.

"C-crookshanks," she called. No answer. "Crookshanks!"

Padded paws sounded from the other room and abruptly Crookshanks jumped up onto the table. Barty roughly spun her to the side so she could see him and Crookshanks, his eyes filled with pooling darkness. He pointed his wand at her beautiful cat, his big snake-slit eyes stared at Hermione with love. She couldn't look away. This would hurt him so much; it was killing her.

" _Avada kedavra_!"

There was a scream.

A loud, ear-splitting scream that shot out of Hermione's mouth. Coldness ran through her once the green flash dissipated. She dropped to the floor, the hand on her throat the only thing keeping her steady, and sobbed.

An orange lump was directly in her eyeline, unmoving.

"You weren't going to kill him. You were only going to-to…"

"I am a man of my word, Miss Granger," Barty spoke softly, "and a man can lie as easily as he can tell the truth."

He left her there to sob. Alone.

* * *

 **I did warn that it was going to get very dark.**

 **Hermione will get braver as time goes on, but I like to think after so many years of Death Eaters being somewhat out of her life it's like a shock to the system.**

 **Not entirely sure what the direction of this story is but it's definitely becoming longer than originally planned...oops**


End file.
